


Ballroom Blitz

by Magpiedance



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Ambiguous Deputy (Far Cry), Other, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14594430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiedance/pseuds/Magpiedance
Summary: Turns out you met Sharky before the world went to hell. You'd be forgiven for forgetting on account of all the alcohol.





	Ballroom Blitz

**Author's Note:**

> _the music was soothing_
> 
> _and they all started grooving_
> 
> _-_
> 
> (Someone requested the deputy riding Sharky while wearing his hat. I don't think this is what they had in mind, woops!)

This is a very bad situation to have found yourself in.

Pressed up against a police cruiser with a hundred-fifty pounds of drunk felon bearing down on you.

"So, po-po," he says, "We gon' do this this or what?"

You really shouldn't have told him you were law enforcement, but that wasn't even your first mistake. You find a man defacing a cop car, you tell him to stop, naturally. But you were walking home from a night out with your work mates; you're so fucking drunk and there's no one else around. You should have just taken a photo on your phone and gotten someone more responsible to deal with it. But no, you had to be a god-damned-hero, didn't you?

And now here you are, his weight leaned on his hands on the roof of the car caging you in and his face just inches from yours. At the very least you could stop giggling like a total lush.

"Damn, I always wanted to get it on with a cop," he says, like he can't quite believe his luck. You try to explain that you're only a junior deputy and you're not even on duty but he cuts you off. "C'mon, Five-O, don't spoil it for me like that."

That part is your fault.

“Hey, stop that!” You'd said.

“Or what, you gonna tell the law-man on me?” He had asked in return, challenging you with a toothy grin.

“I _am_ the law,” you'd said, and then sniggered because _really._

That was the moment you lost control of the situation. He could not have been more thrilled.

“Wuh-oh!” He'd said, jigging from one foot to the other excitedly, “The 'Law's _drunk!_ ”

You shouldn't have let him get so close. You shouldn't have laughed at his stupid jokes. So many things you shouldn't have done leading to the present moment with him staring you down, daring you to do something, and so many more things you shouldn't do left to come.

For example.

You definitely shouldn't make the first move, and that move should _absolutely not be_ grabbing him by the dick and biting your lip when you find that he's already pitching a semi.

He murmurs " _Fuck yeah_ ," with absolute approval, then swoops in for a sloppy drunken kiss.

He kisses with an edge of desperation; like he's expecting you to tell him to 'stop' at any minute and he wants to get in as much as possible before you do. And you should. Any minute now. For sure. But then his hand grabs clumsily at your crotch and even through your jeans the pressure is _so good_ and any thought of what you should do has flown clear away.

You grab two handfuls of his ass and pull him in tight, crashing his hips into yours.

"Pushy," he says with a pleased-sounding chuckle. "It's all good, _mi amore_ , I am so very into that."

You blink at him in surprise.

"Italian," you purr. " _Very sexy_."

He snorts like you're being adorable.

"Uh, _no_ , bae, Spanish. But you ain't wrong about it bein' sexy as fuck. I'm very bi-lingo."

You close your eyes and decide it's not worth pressing the issue.

Instead, you steal his hat. You place it on your own head with a small flourish of your hands. He chuckles at that, then leans in to kiss you some more.

It's all going very well up to the point where you have him pushed down onto the bonnet of the car, starting to straddle his hips. Then sadly five rounds of tequila and lime catch up to you. You barely make it to the bushes in time.

He holds your hair, at least, like a true gentleman.

"Ain't gonna lie, boo, that's a real boner-killer," he says, massaging your shoulders sympathetically.

That makes you smile, in spite of the situation, trying to spit out the last of the bile in your mouth.

"It's, uh, Sharky, by the way," he says, self-conciously, then grins when that name reduces you to inane giggling.

“What?” you ask.

“It's a whole story,” he replies, shrugging it off.

He looks over to where he's spray painted 'fuck the police' on the side of the cruiser.

"Man, I should add 'literally' to the end of that, you think?" He exclaims, and he looks so proud of himself that you absolutely lose it laughing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one. Short-er, anyway. [Ballroom Blitz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewFBuYHldeY) by The Sweet.


End file.
